


Plomeek Soup

by brightclam



Series: Star Trek Secret Santa [3]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Don't copy to other sites, Gen, alternating pov, food as a love language, friendship slow burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 00:19:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17192927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightclam/pseuds/brightclam
Summary: Elizabeth Cutler is trying very hard to be friends with T'pol. T'pol is being very Vulcan and ignoring her. Hoshi is somewhat of a matchmaker.





	1. a suggestion

**Author's Note:**

> my fic for star trek secret santa 2018 for @sassysaltysarcasticstupid, who requested liz, hoshi, and t'pol friendship and mundane enterprise crew. I hope this satisfies on both counts!

\-----------

 

It’s the night shift, but both Hoshi and T’pol are on the bridge working when they really should be sleeping. Hoshi is trying to fine tune a very important translation before the captain has to speak to a touchy species just looking for an excuse to go to war. That’s worth sacrificing some sleep, she thinks. In contrast, T’pol is just working on a regular, everyday status report. She definitely seems to need less sleep than humans, and takes full advantage of it. 

 

That was one of the first ways Hoshi started to break the Vulcan’s carefully maintained cold shell: stumbling across her in the mess hall at 2 in the morning was a surprisingly effective tactic. T’pol was much less defensive when she wasn’t surrounded by other humans and it was just her and Hoshi. The night time calm of the empty mess hall, copious amounts of tea, and Hoshi’s quiet persistence had allowed her to finally crack through the Vulcan’s shell. They may not be friends per-se yet, but T’pol no longer seems on guard when she’s around Hoshi, and has even started to show small gestures of affection, like bringing her a cup of her favorite tea or complimenting her translation work. For a Vulcan, those are pretty large steps.

 

So they work together at their consoles in a comfortable silence, the night shift crew paying them little attention. Hoshi finishes proofreading the paragraph she's working on and then sets the computer to pause before spinning her chair around to face T’pol. She winces as the sudden motion makes the chair squeal in protest. T’pol twitches at the metallic shriek but doesn’t turn away from the science station, fingers flying as she types. Hoshi wheels the chair  a bit closer to T’pol, making her intentions clear, and T’pol tilts her head a bit to acknowledge her presence.

 

Hoshi leans her elbow on the console, resting her head on her hand and yawning. She’s not sure this is a good idea but she pushes forwards anyways:

 

“You should really give her a chance.”

 

T’pol hums noncommittally, a human habit she’s picked up after a few months aboard.

 

“She’s really nice, and legitimately interested in being your friend.. And I know you’d like how committed and skilled she is in her field.”

 

T’pol finally hits the submit button on her report and turns to face Hoshi, not a hint of confusion in her voice as she asks:

 

“Who?”

 

Hoshi smiles at her, glad to have her full attention.

 

“Liz Cullen.”

 

T’pol’s brow furrows the slightest bit, one of the tiny twitches of emotion that Hoshi has begun to recognize.

 

“The entomologist? What chance should I be giving her?”

 

Hoshi sighs, unsure if T’pol is being purposely dense or not. With Vulcans, it could go either way; are they ignoring your emotions because they think they’re not worth their time or just because they don’t understand them? At least T’pol isn’t usually trying to be dismissive, like some of the other vulcans Hoshi has meet.

 

“She really does want to be your friend. She’s not just interested in you because you’re a Vulcan. I’m friends with her and she’s really nice. She’s already managed to become friends with Doctor Phlox, too.”

 

T’pol steps back to the console for a moment to shutdown the computer and then turns back to Hoshi, hands behind her back in the stiff posture she takes when confronted with human behavior she doesn’t understand.

 

“I had thought her attempts to engage me in conversation about my culture was the shallow pleasantries that humans engage in often, rather than an attempt at friendship. I hope I have not upset her?”

 

Hoshi laughs and stands, also turning off her computer. 

 

“Well, she’s a little hurt because humans are that way. But I’m sure she won’t hold it against you if you let her know you didn’t understand, rather than you were just blowing her off.”

 

T’pol waits for Hoshi’s console to darken before gesturing towards the turbolift, lifting an inquiring eyebrow. Hoshi takes the unsaid invitation and leaves the bridge with her. T’pol waits until they’re in the privacy of the turbolift to speak again:

 

“Hoshi, I do not want to pursue a friendship with her.”

 

Hoshi notices the tight set of her shoulders, the wide, defensive stance she’s taken. She keeps her voice kind, quiet, and non judgmental as she responds:

 

“Don’t want to or don’t feel ready to?”

 

Suddenly T’pol is looking at her, blue eyes filled with all the vulcan intensity and focus she usually tones down. It so intense, almost predatorily so, that Hoshi suddenly remembers how much stronger than humans Vulcans are. She knows T’pol would never hurt her, but she does suddenly realize that there may be such a thing as prying too deeply. All the progress she’s made in befriending T’pol may have just come crumbling down.

 

Then the tension bleeds out of T’pol and she looks down, carefully rolling her shoulders as if she’s trying to force her muscles to stop being tense. Hoshi lets out a breath she didn’t realize was holding. T’pol speaks, low and quiet, in a way that a human might call ashamed:

 

“Your assessment of the situation is correct. I apologize for my reaction. I was hoping my reasoning would not be so obvious.”

 

Hoshi sighs, sadness filling her. She’d always known Vulcans had emotions, and the more she interacts with the T’pol, the more she realizes their insistence on suppressing them is harshly enforced in their culture and, quite often, harmful to those who don’t fully manage it. In many ways, Hoshi is hopeful that being on a human ship will allow T’pol to relax a bit and stop punishing herself. 

 

She steps towards T’pol, not reaching out to her, but still trying to seem comforting. The turbolift bumps to a halt and she hits the freeze button on the console, keeping them inside its protective shell, where they won’t be interrupted. 

 

“It’s alright T’pol. I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable by being so blunt. I just wanted you to know that you’re allowed to be comfortable here. Most of the crew truly want to be on good terms with you, and no one is going to judge you. I’m not trying to pressure you into anything, but just think it over, okay?”

 

T’pol takes a deep breath, standing up straight again and squaring her shoulders. She carefully returns herself to the controlled, emotionless state that she keeps up every day. When she responds, it’s so quiet Hoshi almost misses it:

 

“I will consider it.”

 

Hoshi smiles widely to herself and unfreezes the door, walking out into the hallway with T’pol close behind.

 

\--------


	2. a choice

\-------

T’pol enters the mess hall, relieved to see that her calculations appear to have been correct. The dinner rush is often unpredictable, but she’s done her best to find a pattern that allows her to avoid it. From the significantly quieter chatter she hears as she enters, she’s succeeded. She makes a beeline for the replicators; her dependence on tea as a coping mechanism is a bad habit she has yet to break. At least here on the Enterprise---where the humans guzzle coffee daily---it is not out of the ordinary.

The human’s less controlled culture has allowed her to become lax in her self control. She should work strengthening on it, but for the moment she cannot find a reason to. The humans are too consumed by their own messy emotions to notice any lapses in her control, and she will not be seeing any Vulcans for almost a month. Humans, that is, with the exception of Hoshi, who seems to have become frightening adept at noticing T’pol’s emotions when they mistakenly bleed through. Perhaps that is reason enough to work on her control.

T’pol forces those thoughts down, focusing on the calming warmth of the mug in her hands. She is heading for her usual isolated window seat, which strategically is only made for one person, when she notices someone else sitting alone. Crewman Elizabeth Cullen is, fittingly, flipping through an entomology report as she sips at a bowl of soup. Even from halfway across the room, T’pol can smell the trademark spices of Plomeek soup, albeit weak because the chef never properly reproduces Vulcan cuisine.

T’pol had assumed the crewman had picked up Vulcan cuisine as a shallow attempt at learning about T’pol, and yet here she is, still eating it months later. This points towards a legitimate interest and attempt to learn, rather than the annoying and invasive politeness T’pol has assumed. Hoshi, as usual when concerning human behavior, appears to have been correct. T’pol sighs; the safety of her usual spot calls to her, promising silence and no difficult social interaction.

However, T’pol thinks of her highly successful friendship with Hoshi. They have benefitted from an increased exchange of information and, T’pol must admit, it has made her stay on board more pleasant. Logically then, befriending Crewman Cullen should be equally beneficial. So T’pol crosses the mess hall and, when Cullen looks up from her datapadd, politely asks:

“Crewman Cullen. May I join you.”

She hesitates a moment, almost dropping her spoon, her surprise painfully obvious. T’pol tries not to let her eyebrow twitch as the human fumbles, finally managing to respond:

“Um, yeah! Sure!”

T’pol takes the seat across from her, settling her tea on the table and once again wrapping her hands around it, trying to pull as much heat from the ceramic as possible. Crewman Cullen is obviously nervous, fidgeting with her spoon and looking from T’pol’s face to her soup and back again. There’s a long, painful silence filled with only the light clanking of Cullen’s spoon before T’pol realizes she may need to jumpstart the conversation. 

Humans often will jabber on without prompting, but Cullen seems rather intimidated, so T’pol grasps onto the same topic of conversation as Cullen had the last time they attempted a conversation:

“The chef’s attempt at plomeek soup is not accurate. It is lacking in many essential flavors.”

Cullen smiles, still nervous, but seemingly encouraged by T’pol attempting to hold a conversation.

“I’ve never had it before, so I wouldn’t know. It would be nice to see what real plomeek soup tastes like. Does it bother you that it isn’t right?”

T’pol lifts an eyebrow. She still doesn’t understand why humans insist on asking such things.

“Nothing bothers me. I do not experience emotions.”

That sends Cullen back into an embarrassed flurry:

“Oh, I know! I just meant...Um, a lot of us miss the food from home. I was wondering if you do too.”

T’pol’s first instinct is to clarify that homesickness is an illogical, emotion reaction. But then she looks at the eager crewman and decides that maybe that isn’t necessary. Keeping the conversation going may require some sacrifices; it’s only logical, after all.

“I do miss home, in some ways. In many others I am glad to be fulfilling my duties aboard your ship.”

Cullen beams; all human smiles seem overwhelmingly bright to T’pol but Cullen’s especially so. Even so, the outburst of emotion is not unpleasant. T’pol’s presence always seems to make the crewman nervous and uncomfortable, so it’s nice to finally have elicited a positive reaction from her. T’pol is slowly learning how to coexist with humans, and a lot of it centers around not trampling over their feelings. 

To vulcans experiencing emotions causes distress, so avoiding them is best for everyone. For humans it’s the opposite; attempting to avoid their emotions only distresses them further. T’pol had only been able to work effectively--and not be upset by their presence herself ---once she had learned that she cannot ignore or dismiss their emotions. She does not understand their emotions, but that does not mean their experience them is any less real. She cannot simply will away something that is essential to their being. Attempting to do so only upsets them and makes them distance themselves from her. Such distance is not very conducive to a working relationship, so she must respect their emotions in order to work with them. 

It is a lesson that she thinks many other vulcans could stand to learn, especially those that insist on working with humans. But it’s not her place to question her superiors, and they are too...stubborn to listen even if she did. Her time is better spent here, building relationships with the humans that other Vulcans see as a waste of time. But if she is to help them take their first steps out into a very large and dangerous galaxy, she must respect them, not just tolerate them. And, she thinks, their may just be things they can teach her as well.

Crewman Cullen fidgets with her datapadd, still smiling shyly to herself. T’pol can see a delicate scientific diagram of an alien insect’s thorax and feels her scientific curiosity stir.

“Crewman Cullen, I must say I find your work impressive. Would you mind telling me what you are working on now?”

The crewman evidently doesn’t mind, as she excitedly pushes her now empty bowl aside to slide the datapadd closer to T’pol. She scoots her chair closer as well and begins to describe her research of an Tellarite hive beetle’s evolutionary path, her hair falling in her face as she gestures grandly. Despite the human’s somewhat dramatic presentation of the information, she is as well versed as Hoshi implied, and T’pol settles in for an engaging conversation. She’s so intrigued that she doesn’t even notice her cup of tea cooling, barely touched, on the edge of the table.

\------


	3. a conversation

\------

Hoshi is jolted out of her translation as a tray hits the table next to her, Liz sliding into the matching chair. Hoshi sighs, trying to calm her jangling nerves. Sleep deprivation and loud sudden noises don’t get along so well. But she is glad to see her friend, so she turns off her datapadd and turns to her, scolding jokingly:

“Liz, a little more warning next time?”

Liz has the decency to look for a sorry for a moment, apologizing quickly, before the excitement takes over again:

“Sorry, Hoshi I just really need to talk to you!You would not believe what happened to me last night! ”

Recognizing her tone as one that almost always leads to some exciting gossip, Hoshi instantly forgets all about her exhaustion and leans in closer:

“Fill me in!”

She almost sounds like she can’t believe it as she says it:

“T’pol talked to me, voluntarily, without me approaching her first, at dinner!”

Hoshi gasps; she had expected to have to pester her at least two more times before she made any attempt to communicate with Liz.

“Liz, that’s great! How did it go?”

Liz shrugs, practically glowing with happiness.

“I mean, awkward at first. Vulcans are kind of hard to talk to, you know. But once we started talking about my research, it was amazing. I’ve never met someone willing to listen to my theory on hive reproduction, let alone converse on an equal level with me about it! And the best part is she seemed to being having as much fun as I was!”

She takes a bite of her pasta, chewing thoughtfully for a moment before correcting herself.

“Well, maybe fun isn’t the right word. But she seemed to actually be okay with talking with me!”

Hoshi pats Liz on the back, happy to see her friend getting along so well with T’pol.

“Just keep talking to her once in a while and she’ll warm up to you. As much as Vulcans try to act like they’re heartless, it really isn’t true.”

Liz’s smile suddenly drops and she sighs, playing with her fork as she seems to consider what to say.

“Yeah. I haven’t known her that long so maybe I’m just reading her wrong but sometimes... she seems sad.”

Hoshi hums agreeingly; a Vulcan might insist they were projecting onto T’pol, and maybe they’d be right. But still, one of humanities advantages are their instincts, and Hoshi’s instincts tell her that there are some emotions peeking out from under T’pol’s tight fisted control. 

“Well, she has left her home and her people to serve on Enterprise. That must be difficult, being so isolated from your culture and everything you knew. I know being away from earth is hard for us, but at least the majority of my crewmates are the same species as we are. It’s probably even harder for her.”

Liz nods, her mouth curving downwards unhappily. 

“I get the same feeling, I think you’re right. I just wish there was something we could do to help.”

Hoshi smiles at Liz; she’s such a caring and social person, she can’t stand to see someone unhappy and not try to help. She’s mediated many an onboard conflict without even being asked, which makes her a wonderful crewmate and an even better friend. She is always looking to support her friend any way she can, but when it comes to T’pol, that might be a little more difficult than usual.

“I think we’re already doing as much as we can. When she first came on board, she didn’t talk to anyone. She was almost completely alone. Now she’s got at least us two to open up to if she wants. If we just keep being there for her, that will help.”

She reaches out to take Liz’s hand, stopping the upset fidgeting. She gives Liz her best comforting smile.

“Seriously, please don’t worry too much. T’pol is fine, and we’re doing everything we can to be there for her if she need it, okay?”

Liz sighs, resting her chin on her hand, propping herself up as she droops unhappily. She always want to be able to fix what’s making people unhappy, but that isn’t really something you can do. They have to do that themselves. The most she can do is lend a friendly hand along the way.

\------


	4. a visit

\------

Liz paces around the tiny lab that she shares with three other scientists, which is thankfully empty for the moment. She’s never wanted a private lab more than she does now, but there isn’t room on Enterprise for such luxuries. At least she’s got a corner of the lab to herself, which she’s cleaned up the best she can. The rest of the lab is a mess, which she glares at, but since it’s not her stuff she can’t really do anything about it. If she tried to mess with it she could destroy delicate experiments or, knowing her luck, accidentally release something alien into the ship. Not that she thinks alien moss her labmates are studying is that dangerous, but still it’s best to be careful.

She shakes herself, taking a couple of deep breaths. She doesn’t need to be worrying this much, the lab doesn’t need to be perfect. T’pol is just coming over to see the newly hatched hive beetles, not to judge her on her organizational skills. Still, she’s nervous about it. Mostly because she’s perpetually anxious, really, but also because she really wants the budding relationship between her and T’pol to work out. 

Her racing thoughts are cut off as she hears the passcode being keyed into the door and it slides open, revealing T’pol waiting sedately outside. She releases her arms from their usual behind her back position and gives Liz a nod of greeting as she asks:

“May I enter, Crewman Cullen?”

Liz rushes over to the door, gesturing for her to come inside and stuttering:

“O-of course! And please, call me Liz.”

T’pol carefully steps over the lip of the doorway and scans the room before speaking, the hesitation unusual for her.

“Use of nicknames is unfamiliar and uncomfortable to me. Will it be acceptable if I call you Elizabeth?”

Liz smiles; it’s a little thing, but it almost make T’pol seem more human. For Vulcans---professional stonewallers---even the slightest admission of discomfort is a vulnerability that they don’t often show.

“Elizabeth is fine!”

Liz is halfway across the small room, intending to return to T’pol’s side, when she accidentally hip checks a teetering pile of papers leaning off a desk. She hisses as they cascade nosily to the floor, making T’pol jump. She crouches to gather them as they carpet the floor, smiling apologetically up at T’pol.

“Sorry, it’s a bit of a mess in here.”

T’pol crouches as well, efficiently sweeping the remaining papers into a pile and handing them over to Liz.

“I am well acquainted with the unorganized habits of scientists. I may have even contributed to some of my own, in the past.”

Liz mock gasps, clutching the papers to her chest in an overdramatic display of scandal.

“No, say it isn’t so!”

T’pol lifts an elegant eyebrow, a faint hint of amusement dancing in her dark eyes.

“Even I must admit to the occasional flaw.”

Liz can’t help but burst out laughing, setting the papers back down on the desk and giggling:

“I thought Vulcans didn’t have a sense of humor!”

T’pol replies with a perfect deadpan, voice not giving any hint of anything but seriousness:

“Most do not, it is a very rare genetic tag, passed down through only a few families. My mother lacks it, but my father passed it on to me. It is a carefully held secret amongst Vulcans.”

Liz stares for a moment, considering that. 

“You’ve got to be messing with me.”

T’pol holds it a another moment and then breaks, eyes shining again:

“Perhaps.”

Liz snorts and passes her by, heading to the cage that holds the hive beetles.

“Come on, you comedian. Let’s look at some cool bugs.”

T’pol joins her at the cage as she pops the lids off, muttering as she does:

“The queen’s eggs hatched last night, and contrary to my expectations, the triplet’s coloration doesn’t match their gene donors at all. It’s beautiful, but I still don’t know how it works.”

T’pol is unbothered by the gust of muggy air as the cage comes open, which coincidentally smells like rotting meat. One of the perks of working with predatory beetles; they stink. Still, T’pol is unfazed, instead leaning in as close as possible to stare at the brightly colored hatchlings, huddled around the queen’s bulk. The tiny hive drones scuttle around her in a dark cloud, snapping their tiny jaws. Encouraged by T’pol’s apparent interest, Liz hesitantly asks:

“Would you like to hold one?”

Her face lights up subtly and she asks:

“May I?”

Liz has work very hard not to squeal; most people on board would run screaming at the suggestion of touching one of her beetles. She eagerly grabs a pair of tongs off of their hook on the wall, and snaps them a couple times, beginning an explanation:

“Oh, it’s perfectly safe. Although hive beetles can swarm and devour their prey like piranhas, they have very specific parameters of what counts as food. Humans, and Vulcans, simply don’t register to them. We’re just a part of the landscape. These ones, because I’ve handled them so regularly, are especially friendly. At the risk of anthropomorphizing, they’re almost cuddly.”

T’pol holds out her hands, looking perfectly at peace with the thought of razor sharp toothed insects crawling about in them. 

“I looks forwards to making their acquaintance.”

Liz suddenly realizes she may be a little bit in love with her. She grins and reaches into the tank, carefully snatching the queen. The hive drones skitter with concern, but otherwise stay calm. The queen, a massive, sluggish creature with a glimmering blue carapace, wiggles gently as she’s placed in T’pol’s waiting hands. The Vulcan watches her with intense, curious eyes; the queen is almost equally as interested in her, sedately exploring her palms with fuzzy antennae.

Inside the cage, the hatchlings begin to flap their wings, mildly distressed by the disappearance of their mother. Liz carefully lifts them out, one by one, until T’pol is holding a happily humming pile of beetles. T’pol watches them crawl across her fingers for a long moment before looking up at Liz, eyes shining.

“They’re beautiful.”

Liz giggles, glad someone else thinks so.

“I’ve always thought so.”

Their peaceful moment is interrupt by a loud banging on the lab door, making them both jump. Liz frowns at the door; no one knocks on this door; anyone who needs to come in has a code. She whispers at T’pol to stay there, receiving an affirmative nod, and then approaches the door cautiously. Unlikely scenarios of alien intruders spin through her head as she raises her voice:

“Who’s there?”

Travis’s boyish voice comes clearly through the door, a edge of stress to it:

“Come on Liz, let us in!”

Liz quickly yanks the door open and Malcom and Travis tumble inside, Malcom clutching a plastic football. Travis kicks the door shut as she frantically whispers:

“Is everything okay?”

The two men look at her, slightly frazzled but not frightened at all. Malcom shrugs:

“We’re hiding from Trip.”

Liz’s concern changes to irritation. She punches him on the arm, making him yelp and drop the ball.

“Don’t scare me like that, Malcom!”

The british man scrambles after the ball, which has bounced under the counter, rubbing mulishly at the growing sore spot on his arm. Travis holds his hands out appeasingly and apologizes:

“Sorry, Liz, didn’t mean to freak you out.”

Liz sighs, unconsciously putting her hands in her hips in what Travis calls her “scolding pose”.

“What are you two doing, anyways?”

Malcom, finally having pried the ball out from under the counter, holds it up like a prize.

“We’re playing touch football!”

T’pol steps forwards, calmly cradling a squirming armful of bugs, and snips:

“I did not realize football involved running and hiding.”

Malcom and Travis jump, making matching expressions of disgust at her beetles, but quickly snip back:

“Well, Trip didn’t set any rules on what constituted the field. So we decided to stretch it as far as they can go.”

T’pol lifts an amused eyebrow, tilting her head and stroking the queen beetle in a way that makes her look like a Bond villain.

“You mean you decided to frustrate him for your amusement.”

Travis shrugs, looking unapologetic:

“Well—“

Malcom suddenly hisses:

“Shh!”

They all freeze, and Liz can hear approaching footsteps. The footsteps are angry, or as angry as a sound can be. As the person gets closer, she can hear Trip’s trademark southern drawl as he mutters curses under his breath. He storms past, his anger slowly fading as he passes the lab by. 

T’pol glares at Malcom and Travis, who have began giggling under their breath. They stop, abruptly, and glare back. 

“Come on T’pol. We’re just having a little fun!” 

She gives them a long, unimpressed stare, before relenting and turning her attention back to Liz. She’s apparently willing to aid and abet their shenanigans this time.

“Elizabeth, I believe you were informing me about hive beetles?”

Malcom and Travis high five victoriously and then wave goodbye to Liz before sneaking back out the door. Liz shakes her head at them as they leave, sharing a commiserating look with T’pol. T’pol hoists her armful of bugs questioningly.

Liz smiles at her bugs, holding out a finger for one of the hatchlings to crawl onto. She lets it skitter around her palm before looking back up to T’pol and asking:

“You had enough?”

T’pol looks down on the queen who has curled up in her hands, satisfied by her exploration of her environment. 

“I have not tired of their presence, but I feel they may have tired of mine.”

The hatchling on Liz’s hand takes the opportunity to scuttle back over to T’pols hand, joining its siblings in huddling against their mother.

“They like you a lot, actually, but the hatchlings are young and easily tired. They should probably go back to the hive now. But you can visit them anytime you want!”

T’pol carefully carries them back to the cage, waiting until Liz has placed them all back in the hive to drop her hands and ask:

“Is there a place to wash my hands?”

Liz points her to the sink and carefully latches the cage shut before turning back to T’pol. The other woman is drying her hands, back to her. Liz can’t stop herself from smiling shyly, stomach flipping over nervously as she speaks:

“Thank you for coming over T’pol. It means a lot to me.”

T’pol turns to face her, arms once again crossing behind her back, but there’s that slight twitch of her lips again, like the very beginning of a smile. 

“Thank you, Elizabeth. It was a pleasure to see your work, and I enjoy your company.”

Before Liz can respond, they’re interrupted by the sound of frantic footsteps running by outside. They can hear Travis and Malcom yelling, a mixture of teasing and apologies, followed close behind by Trip’s bellowed threats. Liz can’t help but laugh and T’pol raises an amused eyebrow.

“Would you like to go to lunch, Elizabeth? I believe there may be some interesting stories to be heard soon.”

Liz giggles, joining T’pol as she heads towards the door.

“I’d love to, T’pol.”

\-------


	5. a gift

\-------

T’pol stands next to the shuttlepod bay, arms folded behind her back. Humans stream past her, laughing and chatting cheerfully. It is not necessary for her to come down to greet them upon their return from shore leave on earth, but she feels it is a gesture that the humans may appreciate. Captain Archer, in particular, greets her eagerly when he finds her waiting. 

The humans, and by extension her, have become to see Enterprise as home. Their return is both joyful and mournful; they love Enterprise and their mission, but they miss being on their home planet. That she can understand, so she hopes her welcoming them back may help ease the transition. Even if it does not, humans have a tradition of “appreciating the effort”. 

The last of the crew members are exiting the bay now, so T’pol turns to return to her station on the bridge. Before she can make her retreat, she hears her name being called. She turns to face the crewman, relieved to find it is her acquaintance Elizabeth Cullen. The crewman waves once she realizes she has T’pol’s attention and breaks into a jog to reach her faster.

T’pol steps to the side of the corridor to allow the last of the crewmen through and waits for her. She quickly clamps down on her slight disappointment at being restrained here, rather than being allowed to return to the peace and quiet of the bridge science station. Even so, interactions with Elizabeth are always worthwhile, so T’pol feels equally intrigued to see what she has to say.

Elizabeth finally makes it to her, breathing slightly elevated from running up the shuttlebay stairs. T’pol gives her a respectful nod and the human responds with her usual bright smile. Her hair is pulled back and she’s dressed in casual civilian clothes, a bag of luggage thrown over her shoulder. She seems to have enjoyed her shore leave, as she bounces excitedly on her toes before speaking:

“T’pol! I’m glad to see you here! I hope you had a good leave. You chose to stay on Enterprise, right?”

T’pol notices that for all that Elizabeth is moving, her whole body thrumming with her excitement, one hand is remaining out of sight behind her back. T’pol has a sneaking suspicion that she may have indulged in one of the “surprise gifts” that Captain Archer insists on bringing back for her after leave. She does not mention it, knowing that humans enjoy the giving of the gift more than anything else, especially when they hope to keep it a surprise.

“Welcome back, Elizabeth. I did choose to stay, and I had a most restful leave aboard the ship. It was most satisfying. I hope yours was equally effective?”

Elizabeth nods, rising onto her toes and falling back on her heels with the movement.

“Yep! That’s part of what I wanted to show you, actually. While I was planetside I got in contact with someone and they helped me make this!”

The long hidden hand finally makes an appearance, the gift surprisingly not wrapped. It is an food suspension container, only about the size of her palm, a common object easily found in the mess and kitchen aboard Enterprise. T’pol’s curiosity is peaked and she leans forwards to take a closer look. Elizabeth is practically vibrating with hopeful excitement as T’pol peers inside.

There’s a smear of familiar greenish liquid inside and T’pol feels a kick of surprise, tinted with something dangerously close to affection. She looks up to Elizabeth’s shining eyes, trying to hide her shock as she asks:

“Plomeek soup?”

Elizabeth cheers, eyes almost scrunching shut as she smiles widely and relinquishes the container into T’pol’s waiting hands.

“Yes! My mom knows a vulcan chef and they agreed to help me out. They warned me that every Vulcan has their own preferred recipe, but I figured it might be closer than Chef’s at least.”

T’pol is dangerously close to letting how touched she is by the gift bleed through onto her face, so she simply holds the container carefully and nods.

“I am sure it will be sufficient. Thank you. It is a most thoughtful gift.”

Elizabeth laughs, some of the tension bleeding out of her as she gushes:

“Oh, I’m so glad you like it! I wasn’t sure if it was something that you would like or if I was being annoying or anything.”

T’pol tilts her head towards the crewman, letting her lips twitch upwards just the slightest bit.

“You do not annoy me, crewman. I enjoy your company.”

Elizabeth twitches, obviously flustered, not able to piece words together for the moment. T’pol takes a step towards the end of the corridor and offers over her shoulder:

“I must take the container to my quarters. I assume you are stopping by the crew quarters as well?”

Elizabeth recovers quickly, clutching at the strap of her bag, almost glowing with happiness at T’pol’s enjoyment of her gift. 

“Yes, I am. Have to change, of course.”

“Would you like to walk to the crew quarters together?”

Elizabeth jumps and takes a few steps forwards to reach T’pol’s side, voice joyful as she responds:

“I’d love to!”

T’pol is careful to slow her stride to stay abreast of her as they continue out of the corridor. As Elizabeth fills her in on her shore leave adventures, T’pol considers: there is certainly no quiet here, but she feels equally at peace in Elizabeth’s presence as she does at her station. It is a strange realization, but not an unpleasant one.

\-------


	6. an idea

\-------

Hoshi presses the button next to Liz’s door, setting off the chime inside. A moment later she hears a distracted “come in” and waves the door open. Liz is at her desk, staring intently at her monitor. She finishes reading a couple more sentences before turning to greet Hoshi, who has flopped down on her bunk. 

“Hey Hoshi! How are you doing?”

Hoshi fiddles with one of Liz’s many decorative pillows which, fittingly, has a beautiful butterfly pattern on it.

“I’m a little stressed out, but otherwise I’m good. How are you doing? You seemed engrossed in your reading.”

Liz sighs, looking a little embarrassed.

“Yeah, I’m trying to figure this recipe out.”

That peaks Hoshi’s interest and she sits up, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed to be at the same eye level as Liz. Liz hasn’t shown any interest in cooking before this, so something must be up.

“Maybe I can help? I’m not a great cook but I can fumble my way through most recipes.”

Liz smiles wryly, transferring the recipe from her computer monitor to a datapadd and handing it over.

“I have every bit of faith in your abilities but this one might be harder than you think. Vulcan cuisine is notoriously difficult to get right.”

Hoshi flips the padd and scrolls through the recipe, grinning affectionately at Liz.

“Plomeek soup?”

Liz huffs, standing up from her chair and joining Hoshi on the bed, their sides pressed together in the tiny space. The standard issue bunks are definitely not made for two people, but they make it work.

“I know, I’m predictable. But she really liked it when I brought her back some from Earth.”

Hoshi leans deeper into her, reaching over to run her hands through Liz’s hair. Liz sighs, letting her eyes fall closed as she relaxes. Hoshi reads through the recipe for a moment before hesitantly asking:

“Liz, it’s really sweet that you want to try to do this, but I don’t think we have these ingredients on board.”

Liz blinks sleepily for a moment before happily replying:

“Actually, we do! I picked them up from earth and convinced chef to let me store them in the kitchen’s fridge. So we should be all set on ingredients.”

Hoshi can’t help but be surprised at how much planning she has put into this, it must be really important to her. Then she suddenly has a flash of inspiration:

“Liz, I don’t think we’re going to get anywhere near accurate if we just try to make it on our own, but what if we tried cooking it with T’pol? I don’t know if she likes to cook, but I think it’d be fun!”

Liz gasps, sitting up straight with excitement.

“That’s a great idea! I’ll just have to ask chef if we can use the kitchen.”

“If you get all that worked out, I’m sure T’pol would appreciate it.”

Liz smiles slyly and elbows Hoshi.

“You’re invited too, of course.”

Hoshi rolls her eyes, she didn’t want to seem like she was inviting herself.

“Thanks, Liz.”

Liz goes in for a hug---always a dangerous endeavor in a bunk---and lets her head rest on Hoshi’s shoulder.

“Thank you, Hoshi.”

\--------


	7. a suprise

\--------

T’pol follows Hoshi down the corridor to the mess, the faintest bit of apprehension squirming in her stomach. Elizabeth and Hoshi had asked if she would be willing to spend time with them today, but insisted that what they would be doing was a surprise. She knows they would never do anything purposely discomfort her, but there’s always the possibility of something well meaning but still uncomfortable, like a surprise party. Nevertheless, she continues down the corridor, only the slight twitch of her fingers behind her back belaying her concern.

They arrive at the mess and the door slides open. The mess is empty; it is late, but even so, there should be someone eating a snack or just chatting with friends. To be this empty, the mess must have been purposely cleared. She sighs internally, bracing for something unpleasant, but doesn’t complain as Hoshi leads the way into the kitchen. To her surprise, there is only one person waiting for them: Liz standing by a stovetop in an apron.

Upon closer inspection, she notices a pot sitting on a large burner, and piles of ingredients on the tables. A familiar scent tickles her nose, bringing back memories of her childhood. She would come home to that smell, shaking the red sand off her shoes, and go to greet her father in the kitchen. She misses him painfully, so seeing the familiar ingredients sprawled across the kitchen almost brings tears to her eyes. She looks up at her friends, not able to speak and ask, but Hoshi seems to know how to answer anyways:

“Liz brought the ingredients from earth. We thought you might want to show us how to make it properly.”

T’pol closes her eyes for a moment to collect herself. She’s feeling a whirlwind of forbidden emotions: sadness, homesickness, love for her friends. When she straightens up again she tries to put all of what she is feeling into her words, so that they can know how truly important this is to her.

“Thank you. It’s been years since I made plomeek soup, but I still remember my father’s recipe. I would love to teach it to you.” 

Hoshi and Liz give each other excited glances before handing her a matching apron. They were obviously worried that she would not appreciate their gesture. She would never brush them off that way. Especially since they’ve already done all the work: all the vegetables and spices are already cleaned and chopped. Still, It will be a long process, as the flavours need time to blend. They settle into an easy system: Hoshi readies the ingredients, Liz watches and stirs the pot, and T’pol directs them.

Hoshi has organized the ingredients on the table, each in their own clean pile. T’pol can’t help but walk around the table, touching the familiar ingredients one after another. Their strong scents hang heavy in the room, and despite her sensitive sense of smell, she quite enjoys them. When Hoshi and Liz are focused on chopping or stirring and don’t need her direction, she continues to run her fingers over the delicate leaves of the spices. Her favorite spice has soft, fuzzy leaves, and she continues petting it until Hoshi adds it to the pot.

Cooking plomeek soup is a long, somewhat tedious process, requiring long waits for vegetables to soften or for the pot to boil. It’s peaceful, in the night time quiet of the empty mass, listening to the soft bubbling of the pot as they converse. Hoshi compares it to the human tradition of human sleepovers: close friends in a private space, where they are able to strengthen their bonds. T’pol thinks it is a fitting comparison.

Finally, after a multitude of dirtied dishes, the kitchen fills with a wonderful, familiar aroma. T’pol carefully spoons the soup into three bowls as Elizabeth and Hoshi hang up their aprons and retreat to the main mess area. T’pol joins them at their chosen table, putting down the bowls and sliding them soup spoons. They dig in happily, oohing and aahing over the unusual flavor. Many of the spices they have never tasted before, so T’pol is glad they have the opportunity to experience them. T’pol herself savors every bite. It is not exactly as she remembers, but close enough to finally satisfy some of the homesickness that’s been gnawing at her while on Enterprise.

She lets herself settle into the gentle warmth of the moment. There is no pressure from her friends to speak or keep up a conversation, so they sit in a content silence. She would never have expected that she would be so content with humans as her closest companions, and yet she has never felt this much peace before, even amongst her own kind. Perhaps this is where she was always meant to end up, even if it is nothing like she even imagined. She has found a place on Enterprise, a place where she can truly be herself without being judged.

\-------------


	8. a tradition

\-------------

 

T’pol is sitting, knees folded underneath her, in the middle of the room. There’s a thin mat laid across the hard floor and a multitude of candles burning in front of her. She’s dressed in flowing red robes, covered with vulcan script. They’re traditional meditation robes, passed down to her by her father. Hoshi sits next to her, looking rather out of place in her enterprise uniform. She’s reading a book: a absolutely terrible romance novel that Phlox had lent her to practice her denoublan. There’s so many love triangles he’d had to draw her a diagram when he gave it to her.

They sit in complete silence, both entirely comfortable with each other’s presence. Finally, Hoshi lets her book fall shut with a surprisingly loud crack which echoes through the quiet room. T’pol’s eyes crack open at the disturbance and Hoshi winces.

“Sorry.”

T’pol closes her eyes and goes back to her meditation, but continues the conversation

“It is not an issue. Did you wish to discuss something?”

Hoshi huffs, trying not to laugh. How the Vulcan can not only know exactly what she was about to do, but also multitask enough to meditate and talk at the same time, she’ll never know.

“Yeah. I was thinking, now that you and Liz are getting along well, maybe she could join us sometimes?”

T’pol doesn’t move a muscle and gives no hint of how she feels about that proposal. 

“I assume you mean join us in my quarters.”

Hoshi sighs as she runs a finger over the ragged edges of the book’s pages; she should’ve known to be more specific.

“Yeah.”

T’pol stays silent for a long moment before responding:

“I would not be upset by her presence here. But perhaps there might be something even better. She has spoken to me about the sleepover night you two participate in.”

Hoshi nods; they get together to hang out in their pajamas, eat popcorn, and watch bad movies together. T’pol continues:

“Perhaps we could combine the two and have a sleepover night in my quarters so I could join you.”

Hoshi can’t believe T’pol came up with such a touching suggestion.

“T’pol, that’s really sweet of you! It’s usually just been us two, but I’m sure Liz would be okay with you joining the fun.”

She grins before nudging T’pol and joking:

“Plus you have better quarters than both of us.”

T’pol lifts an eyebrow and deadpans:

“The perks of being a senior officer.”

Hoshi laughs and lies back down, cracking her book back open.

“I’ll ask Liz and let you know, okay? In the meantime I need to see if Geram is going to propose to Zetal and Noham.”

T’pol shoots the romance novel a disdainful glance before closing her eyes a focusing on her meditation again, though she does let out one last parting shot:

 

“I believe you should have strong words with the doctor about recommending such a book to you, though I do admire your strength for for struggling through it.”

Hoshi laughs, setting the book down and trying to defend it, and the doctor’s, honor.

“Now, T’pol. Romance novels are a great way to get a feeling for a culture.”

T’pol doesn’t even bother opening her eyes to respond to that.

“Vulcans do not have romance novels.”

Hoshi can’t pass up the opportunity to get a jab in:

“Well then, that is a great example. Just from knowing that, we can deduce that Vulcans are no fun.”

That gets T’pol’s eyes open, and she glares jokingly at Hoshi for a moment before quietly responding:

“In some ways, such an assessment would be accurate.”

Hoshi can’t stop a shocked laugh and she asks incredulously:

“Why T’pol, that almost sounded like criticism of Vulcans! Maybe serving on Enterprise really has gotten to you! ”

T’pol gives her a look that’s the Vulcan equivalent of rolling their eyes. Hoshi giggles and goes back to her book, but not before whispering:

“I won’t tell if you don’t.”

That gains her the slightest upwards twitch of T’pol’s lips and she goes back to her book feeling quite self satisfied at having amused her.

 

\-------------


	9. a sleepover

\-------------

Liz shifts uncomfortably, trying not to disturb the quiet of the small room. T’pol sits nearby, hands folded in her lap and she sits crosslegged. A candle burns in front of her and, other than the slow movement of her chest as she breathes, she’s absolutely still. Hoshi lies next to Liz, not quite as still as T’pol but just as silent. 

Hoshi and Liz had gotten in the habit of hanging out in T’pol’s quarters after the first time she invited them over. They’re sparsely decorated, but T’pol presence is obvious in the few decorations. Liz thinks it’s the most calming place to be on the ship, and that’s not on accident. T’pol puts a lot of work into keeping her room that way. As such, it’s become Hoshi and Liz’s favorite place unwind after stressful missions.

Usually, Liz is content to sit and work in their company as T’pol meditates, but today she’s too worked up to stay quiet. She had been in a firefight just a couple hours ago when an away mission went bad, so she’s still buzzing with adrenaline. She shifts again, sighing. She wants to get up and do something, but she really doesn’t want to disturb her friends.

T’pol’s eyes open slowly, and she looks at Liz. Liz winces, thinking she pulled her out of the meditative state. Before she can apologize, T’pol cuts her off:

“You are uncomfortable, Elizabeth. What is disturbing you?”

That leads to Hoshi setting down her datapadd and focusing on Liz too. Liz groans internally; they’re not going to let her stew in her own issues anymore.

“I’m just not feeling great. After this morning I want to get up, move around, you know?”

T’pol hums agreeably.

“You do not need to concern yourself with disturbing my meditation, Elizabeth. Do whatever makes you most comfortable.”

Liz tries not to feel irritated by being read like a book. For all Vulcans talk about not understanding emotions, T’pol is amazingly good at figuring out what you’re really thinking.

“Okay. I think I’m going to go for a walk.”

Hoshi pushes herself up from the soft mat they were laying on and brushes herself off.

“Is it alright if I join you, Liz?”

Liz nods and as they head for the door, T’pol closes her eyes again, tranquilly commenting:

“I will be here when you return.”

Hoshi and Liz step through the doors and into the gentle bustle of Enterprise’s corridors. It’s late afternoon, so there’s not too many people around. Hoshi reaches for Liz’s hand and Liz gladly tangles their fingers together. At first they just meander aimlessly, greeting the other crewmen they pass. Finally, Liz thinks of a good destination:

“Do you want to go visit Doctor Phlox?”

Liz’s friendship with the alien doctor remains as strong as ever, and they often bond over the strange creatures they keep as pets. Liz has a standing invitation to visit sickbay whenever she wants to hang out. Hoshi is equally friendly with the Doctor and she brightens at the suggestion.

“I’d love too! I’ve been meaning to visit him for a while, my denoublan is getting rusty without practice.”

They make a quick turn and begin meandering with purpose. They’ve almost made it to sickbay when they come around a corner and run into Captain Archer. Porthos is loitering around his feet, panting gleefully. When he sees Hoshi and Liz, he barks happily and runs over to lick at their hands. They crouch down to greet him, petting him as he wiggles with joy, tail wagging wildly. Captain Archer seems equally happy to see them, greeting them with his bright smile.

“Hoshi, Liz, nice to see you! How’re you doing?”

His kindly tone suddenly changes to gentle concern as he looks at Liz:

“I hope you’re recovering from the incident this morning.”

Liz droops at that; the captain was on board at the time, but he still feels responsible.

“I am, Captain. We’re just heading down to Doctor Phlox’s.”

Archer laughs, crouching down as well to pat Porthos with affectionate embarrassment.

“We just came from there! Poor Porthos has been temporarily banned after he tried to eat the Doctor’s Trilexian Fruitbat. ”

Hoshi pouts at Porthos, and he takes the opportunity to cover her face in kisses. Liz laughs at Hoshi’s disgusted expression for a moment before turning back to the captain and asking:

“I hope the poor thing is okay?”

The captain nods, carefully pulling Porthos away from Hoshi and gathering him up in his arms. Liz gives him a consoling scratch behind the ears.

“Yes, the doctor said it should be fine.”

Porthos whines, licking at the captain’s face, and squirms to let go of. The captain struggles to keep him from tumbling to the floor and he continues:

“I think we’d better go. Porthos is anxious for his dinner.”

Liz and Hoshi laugh at how the beagle’s ears perk up at the word, his tail once again wagging in excited circles.

“We’ll see you later, captain!”

Captain Archer nods and shouts back at Liz as he disappears through a nearby doorway:

“And Liz, don’t forget. No working! Take some time to relax. I’ll enforce this, crewman!”

Hoshi and Liz wave as they continue towards sickbay, Hoshi still trying to wipe dog spit from her cheeks. Once they reach sickbay they wave the door open and walk in, greeting the Doctor:

“Anyone home?”

There’s the faint rustling of leaves as the doctor appears from behind a plant filled cage, a bowl full of fruit in his hands. He grins his inhumanly wide smile when he sees them and sets the bowl aside, rushing over to meet them.

“Ah, Hoshi! It’s been so long since you came to visit me!”

The following sentences are in Denobulan, and Liz is instantly lost as Hoshi responds in kind. As they chatter on in the alien language, she drifts away from them to look at Phlox’s menagerie of animals. The aforementioned fruit bat peers fearfully out at her, a piece of strawberry clutched in its tiny claws. Liz passes it by, heading to the section where Phlox keeps the insects. Finally, she finds the small cage containing a brillant blue beetle: a juvenile Hive Beetle. Of the three hatchlings, she’d given one to Phlox, one to T’pol, and kept one for herself. 

She just visited T’pol’s beetle, who had been dubbed T’Reamu. She’s growing quite well, and so is Liz’s, so she wanted to check in on this one as well. It seems equally well cared for, puttering around the sandy enclosure that’s littered with small animal bones. She’s so engrossed in watching it that she doesn’t notice that the conversation behind her has stopped and Phlox has joined her at the cage.

“I have greatly enjoyed his presence here, Liz. He is a wonderful little pet. I have named him Junior.”

Liz jumps with surprise, but quickly settles down and smiles gladly at the Doctor.

“That’s great, Doctor! Although, once he gets older you do know he will need to have an accompanying hive?”

The doctor nods proudly.

“I have already prepared a proper enclosure, cleared it with the captain and ordered a hive delivered to our nearest refueling stop.”

Liz’s can’t help but rub her hands together with glee; it’s been so long since she had so many other people who shared her passion!

“That’s great, Doctor! I’m sure he’ll love it. And junior is a great name!”

As the doctor leans in closer to check on his adopted insect, Hoshi pushes in behind him. She peers closer at the bug, mouthing at Liz:

“Wow! He’s a lot bigger than T’pol’s!”

Liz laughs, letting her voice turn secretive:

“She took the runt of the litter, like a big ol’ softie.”

Hoshi giggles, joking back:

“Careful who you tell that information to, Liz! I know some people on board who would hold that over her head endlessly.”

Liz snorts, trying to cover up the sound with a hand over her mouth.

“I would never tell Trip something like that, Hoshi!”

Hoshi shrugs.

“I didn’t think you would have it in you, but I was just making sure.”

Liz reaches out to take her hand again and they grin at each other for a moment before Phlox breaks the silence:

“I assume you are here solely for a friendly visit, as neither of you seem to be in distress?”

They both nod and Liz asks:

“How is Hoshi’s Denobulan coming, Doctor?”

He gives Hoshi a respectful nod.

“Quite well. She’s the most attentive student I’ve ever had. But back to my point, I am glad to see you are doing well, Liz.”

Liz sighs, letting her shoulders fall, feeling the last bit of tension from the earlier incident flowing out of her. The adrenaline is gone and she feels like she could actually sit still again. She does her best to fight back a yawn, but fails, the exhaustion finally hitting her once she’s relaxed.

“I’m glad too, Doctor. ”

Hoshi nudges her shoulder gently.

“I think we should head back to T’pol’s. You’re getting sleepy, Liz.”

Liz nods, and fills Phlox in:

“We’re having a sleepover.”

He grins, and helps Hoshi start prodding her towards the door.

“Ah, what a wonderful human tradition! I hope you have lots of fun.”

Liz waves goodbye to him as they exit, still holding Hoshi’s hand.

“Bye Doctor! Thank you for letting us hang out.”

Liz yawns again as they make their way back through the corridors to T’pol’s quarters.

“I want to watch a movie.”

Hoshi yawns too and mumbles:

“I’m sure T’pol will be alright with that. What do you want to watch?”

Liz shrugs, too sleepy to care very much.

“I’m fine with whatever she wants.”

Hoshi smiles affectionately as she mutters:

“I bet she’ll want to watch Frankenstein.”

They reach T’pol’s quarters and the door swishes open, letting them back into the warm candlelit room. T’pol is exactly as they left: kneeling motionlessly on the floor. When they enter she opens her eyes and glances at them lazily, like a big cat woken up from its afternoon nap. Then she softens, the faintest shift of an expression, and gestures for them to enter.

“Was your walk satisfactory?”

Liz nods, her eyes beginning fall shut against her wishes. 

“Yes, it was. I’ve calmed down completely. I’m definitely on a post adrenaline crash.”

Hoshi releases Liz’s hand and settles down next to T’pol.

“Liz wants to watch a movie, you okay with that?”

T’pol considers and then leans down to blow out the candle, her red robes rustling with the sibilant movement. When she sits back it’s with that slight warmth to her eyes that counts as a smile in Vulcan.

“I would enjoy watching a movie with you.”

Liz grins back and flops down on her other side, asking teasingly:

“Let me guess, Frankenstein?”

T’pol looks quietly amused and lifts a sly eyebrow.

“I have not yet seen the Bride of Frankenstein.”

Liz looks to Hoshi, getting a nod of assent, before bouncing back up and announcing:

“I’ll get the popcorn!”

The pre popped boxes off popcorn that chef had made for them are stored in T’pol’s cabinets across the room. As she pulls them out, there’s a quiet shuffle behind her as the meditation candles are put away and the sleepover pillows and blankets are pulled out instead. She ferries back three heaping bowls of popcorn just as Hoshi is setting up a small screen to watch the movie on. T’pol is behind her, pulling off her flowing meditation robes to reveal comfy pajamas underneath. Liz almost can't believe her eyes when she sees them:

“T’pol! We match!”

T’pol nods, looking far too serious to be wearing pajama pants dotted with tiny sheep jumping over pastel pink clouds. It’s the same matching pajama set that Hoshi and Liz always wear when they have their own sleepovers. Hoshi must have told T’pol about the tradition and she found a pair for herself. It’s a disarming look on the often stern vulcan and it makes Liz endlessly happy. T’pol almost looks...adorable!

“I love it! They look great on you.”

T’pol does that tiny almost smile that Liz and Hoshi pull out of her increasingly often and sits down, wrapping a blanket over her shoulders like a cape.

“Thank you, Elizabeth. They are most comfortable.”

Liz hands her and Hoshi a bowl of popcorn each and then settles in with the last one. Hoshi clicks on the movie and snuggles into her own fuzzy blanket. T’pol watches the black and white film with as much intense focus as she does her science station on the bridge, but she seems to be enjoying it. They’re almost halfway through the movie when, to Liz’s shock, T’pol slowly slumps into her, her head eventually landing on Liz’s shoulder. Her and Hoshi share an amazed look at the obvious display of affection: Vulcans aren’t usually big fans of physical contact.

T’pol finally seems to have opened up to them completely, and Liz drifts off happily with the Vulcan’s weight against her.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm almost tempted to turn this into a romantic fic, as if it isn't long enough already lol


End file.
